


Earth Boys Are Easy

by K_dAzrael



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Comedy, Curses, Eventual Smut, Human Bill Cipher, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_dAzrael/pseuds/K_dAzrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the Bill Cipher dating sim. "What do humans like as presents again? It’s animal viscera, right?”</p><p>Or: Bill gets sentenced to life without parole in a human body, yet not even angelic magic can get in the way of his determination to be The Worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing here? Why do I have a crush on a two-dimensional triangle demon? So many questions for you, Gravity Falls fandom. So many questions.

_DO NOT BE AFRAID_ said a voice.

Mabel screamed, pointing at the rupture in the sky. “What is it? _Where_ is it?!”

“It’s an angel!” Dipper yelled over the roar and rumble of the apocalypse. He grabbed desperately for Mabel and caught the edge of her sweater, dragging her back from where another patch of reality was starting to disintegrate. “I summoned it! I think!”

 _DO NOT BE AFRAID_ the angel repeated.

Even though he was hearing the creature’s words reverberating around the inside of his own head, somehow Dipper knew it was speaking in all-caps. He flipped through the pages of his journal desperately, but came up with nothing. It seemed that the one thing all the Judeo-Christian texts neglected to mention about angels is that they are utterly horrifying.

The angel blinked, and they reeled, seeming to be simultaneously above and below it. Or maybe it just had millions of giant eyes. Maybe it _was_ a giant multi-sided eye. Dipper let out a hoarse yell of panic, grasped Mabel’s arm more tightly, and concentrated very hard on not falling off the world.

“If it’s an angel why is it so–” Mabel made a series of incomprehensible gestures, “ _wrong_?”

“I don’t think it fits in this dimension! I think its home dimension has more… dimensions.”

“Ugh, it’s making me so barfy – it’s like being on a rollercoaster on a Möbius strip!”

“That’s the least of our problems right now!”

Before them, a black triangle surrounded by golden flames continued to revolve and emit a sound that was about the smash the universal barriers with its resonance. The world was shimmering and undulating like an image reflected in choppy water.

_DO NOT BE AFRAID_

The angel’s voice was louder now and more intent; the sharp pitch of it cutting across the low _wub-wub-wub_ that was battering against reality.

Bill Cipher’s single all-seeing eye opened in the void of what was once his body. “No!” he shouted, voice shifting from the low, demonic rumble back into the sharp-pitched human range. “No! Not now! All that I’ve worked for! Nooooo!”

_BE AFRAID_

A blinding flash and the sound of something screaming towards the earth like a meteor.

An earthquake.

Smoke, darkness and the patter of raining debris.

*~*~*

Dipper woke lying in the long grass of a clearing in the woods. His head was thumping and flashes of colour scrolled across his retinas. He could hear Mabel stirring next to him, making the sounds of confusion and pain that told him she had found herself in a similar state.

His sister’s hand touched his shoulder. “Dipper?” she croaked.

“I’m…” he coughed, “I’m ok.”

“Looks like the universe is still here.”

Dipper struggled to a sitting position; this involved a lot of rolling about helplessly in the dirt like a malcoordinated caterpillar. His hat was gone and so was his left sneaker. His limbs were all present and correct, though, so that was a plus. Just a few yards before them a large crater had formed, its edges all churned up with red dirt and its depths still smoking.

“What happened?” Mabel asked. “What do you think happened to Bill? Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure demons can die. I think they can get dissipated though – maybe the angel scattered him all over the multiverse in specks.”

Just as Dipper said this, a noise came from somewhere deep in the crater. It was a sound like a furious animal in pain: “NUUUUuuuhhhhhaggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Mabel and Dipper picked themselves up and limped towards the crater, arms slung over one another’s shoulders for extra balance and support. Peering into the smouldering depths they saw a figure hunched over at the bottom of the pit. It was a naked man, trembling and heaving with laboured breaths. “Agggghhhhhhh!” the man yelled, throwing back his head. His eyes were wide and crazed, the pupils unnaturally elongated. On his bare chest there was a strange scarification: a series of looped symbols that went upwards in a triangle shape, its apex just below his suprasternal notch.

“Is that… is that Bill?” Dipper murmured.

“Pine Tree!” the figure screamed. “You did this to me! You ruined everything!” he scrambled up the incline and before Dipper knew it he was being wrestled to the ground by a hysterical naked man. “Millennia of planning wasted! I am going to END you!” Bill struggled to get a good purchase on Dipper’s neck but his hands did not seem to want to cooperate. “Stupid noodle arms! Vile flesh strings! Arggghhh!”

Mabel got him in a headlock. “Let go of my brother you demonic creep! Don’t make me noogie you – I’ve had over twenty years of practice!”

“Agh! Agh! Curse this pathetic meat vessel!” Bill howled as Mabel dragged him back. He shoved her away and jumped to his feet, contorting his neck to try and read the script on his own chest. “What does this say? What does it say?”

“Sheesh,” Mable gestured, “I don’t speak scribble.”

Sitting up, Dipper tilted his head from side to side to take in the writing. “Bill! It’s the symbols from the Voynich Manuscript! Not even the best code-breakers and translators can read that.”

“Pfft, it’s angelic script, dum-dum. I can read it, just not upside-down.”

Mabel took her phone out of her pocket and dusted off its cracked screen. She held it up and told Bill to stick out his chest and say ‘cheese’. He complied with the first of these instructions and greedily snatched the phone from her hands to squint at the resultant image.

“Three score and ten years! What is this bullshit?!”

“That means seventy,” said Mabel.

“I know what it means!” He continued his reading in a low, fervent mutter. “Three score and ten years to live among the humans… all magic bound… cannot commit a willing harm… cannot leave the limits of Gravity Falls... thus is the demon punished and given to dwell upon his crimes.”

“Really?” Dipper said. “That’s the angel’s idea of punishing you? Because it kind of seems more like it’s punishing _us_.”

“No!” Bill yelled, dropping to his knees in abject despair and opening his arms to the cloudy sky. “Banish me back to the mindscape! Or give me a century in the nightmare pits of R’lyeh – anything but this!” He hung his head and started to let out angry sobs, pounding his fists on the grass.

“Aww, cheer up Bill,” said Mabel, offering him a tentative pat on the shoulder. “Seventy years will fly by before you know it. You can even stay at our place until you get on your feet!”

“Mabel!” Dipper hissed. “You can’t just invite cursed demons to our home!”

“But he’s so sad and naked, Dipper!” Mabel gestured emphatically with both hands. “So naked!”

Dipper tapped his foot, exasperated by what was surely another futile attempt to nay-say his twin. “Well… where is he supposed to sleep?”

“I’m going back to college soon – he can have my room. And you and Grunkle Stan can keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything too… demony.”

“But… but… Great Uncle Ford will hit the roof if he finds out – you know how he feels about Bill.”

“That was _demon_ Bill, though. Besides, he won’t get back from his research trip for months – he doesn’t even have to know!”

It started to rain, a light patter that quickly became head-battering drops. Dipper sighed, staring at Bill’s shuddering back.

“Come on bro-bro - we just saved the world! Maybe no-one else knows about it, but I’d still say that’s cause for a pretty big celebration!”

“Yeaaaah,” Dipper smiled weakly. If they won, why did he feel overcome with foreboding and dread?

_Be afraid, be very afraid._

*~*~*

_Thud thud thud._

Bill was lying on the remaining bed in the Mystery Shack’s attic room while Dipper sat up at the desk he had placed where Mabel’s old bed used to be. Dipper was working, tacking pieces of red string between scraps of paper on his corkboard, opening and closing laptops of varying degrees of functionality and searching under them for handwritten notes and manuscript facsimiles. Bill hummed and threw a small bouncy ball with a question mark on it (liberated from the gift shop) at the beamed ceiling. His mastery of angles was such that it would ricochet off three separate planes before returning to his waiting hand.

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

“Bill, quit it! Don’t you have somewhere else you can be?”

“Not really.” _Thud thud thud._

“I’m working.”

Bill laughed, that infuriatingly persistent “A-HAHAHAHA” that was like the rattle of a tommy gun. “Working – that’s rich! You humans and your ‘achievements’. You think that just because you connect some really obvious dots it’ll make you feel better about being a decaying sack of meat stuck in the boring dimension?”

“Seems I’m not the only meatsack around here though, huh Bill? How’d that happen?”

Bill bared his teeth and his eyes, with their weird, elongated pupils, widened. “You know how it happened, tattle-tale!”

“To be fair, I didn’t know that summoning would work. I thought angels were a myth.”

“You’re just lucky that thing didn’t stomp this world flat by mistake. Angels are slow and stupid!”

“Oh yeah, how did you let one catch you, then?”

Bill gave a low growl and threw the bouncy ball at the ceiling. It pinged off to hit the corkboard, then smacked Dipper’s forehead. _Thud-thud-OW!_

“You think demons are evil and angels are good, right? That’s not how it is, dummy. We’re just different kinds of beings. Demons are pure energy – we’re curiosity and chaos and all that good stuff.” Bill leaned down and let the bouncy ball roll back into his open hand. “Angels are these behemoths that were around before time started. The only reason they’re still here is because they’re made of words that no-one knows how to pronounce anymore. They’re not _with it_ , kid! They don’t know how to delicately manipulate the multiverse any more than your Grunkle Stan can make a call on a smartphone.”

“Seems like that angel had your number, though.”

“A-HAHAHA! Oh yeah, sure, I’m real contrite. This is soooo inconvenient.”

Bill had gone through a textbook five stages of grief with his curse. First came ‘denial’ where he spent a furious three days and nights in the woods trying every ritual and incantation he knew to liberate himself from the flesh-prison. Mabel brought him knitwear, sandwiches and flasks of coffee while Dipper trailed behind her in sullen suspicion.

Next came ‘anger’, where Bill did a lot of standing on the roof and yelling – invoking all the lesser demons he had subjugated and all the feats he had accomplished across space and time as evidence that this was too ignominious a fate for him to suffer – AND DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?

He raged against the confines of his prison, stalking the borders of Gravity Falls and repeatedly throwing himself against magical boundaries that shocked him like an electric cattle fence. He also sometimes still tried to attack Dipper, but every time he did so he would suddenly lose coordination and get struck between the eyes with an intense bolt of migraine. Dipper surmised this was Bill’s punishment for trying to violate the ‘no wilful harm’ clause. For a while, Dipper found great entertainment in provoking Bill and watching him topple over like a fainting goat. Eventually, Bill wised up to this and learned to rein in his more homicidal urges.

Next came ‘bargaining’, where Bill followed Dipper around and plagued him with offers of power and hidden knowledge – all of which he would be able to bestow just as soon as Dipper lent the magical or technological assistance to get Bill back to his old self.

After that came ‘depression’, where Bill lay on the sofa and watched endless daytime TV. He emptied the vending machine of junk food, which he ate mechanically and without much sign of enjoyment, and he didn’t even move or protest when Mabel and her friends inflicted radical make-overs on him. Dipper wanted to laugh at the spectacle of Bill Cipher with his hair full of friendship braids and his nails stuck over with rainbow decals, but actually it was just a mixture of really sad and really disturbing.

Finally, Bill rallied. First, he discovered the internet – a thing that constituted a massive loophole in the angel’s restrictions upon him. Second, Grunkle Stan (always quick to exploit free labour) put Bill to work on tours and in the gift shop. Bill soon realised that he didn’t have to make magical promises to manipulate humans, or physically harm them to cause confusion and anguish.

Bill’s version of ‘acceptance’ was not a zen-like state of contentment, but rather one of energetic cunning.  When a surly teen muttered an insult as he walked past on his way to the grocery store, Bill could not personally strike him down with a fit of nightmares, but with a few well-placed insinuations he could make the teen’s girlfriend leave him and his best friend strongly inclined to punch him in the mouth. And that was just as good – maybe better!

“Ah, plausible deniability!” the Bill of the present moment mused, crossing one leg over the other and bouncing his foot. “Stupid angel.”

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Dipper commented.

“Kid, I’m starting to understand the benefits of having a body. You know what they say – ignorance is bliss! And you know, not being constantly connected to all the arcane secrets of the universe is really relaxing.”

“So you’re on vacation from world domination?”

“Who said I ever wanted world domination? You think too small, that’s your problem – can’t see the wood for the pine trees.” Bill bobbed his foot again – he was wearing some of Mabel’s garishly striped socks and they were not a matching pair. “Oh, and having senses! Physical senses! That’s quite a trip. Before she left Shooting Star gave me a bunch of her summerween candies. Did you know that watermelon taffy tastes nothing like watermelon? Amazing! Gross!”

“Hey, Mabel said she would share that stash with _me_!”

“Yeah, well, she says you eat too much sugar. And you drink too much caffeine. And you’re a sweaty nerd.”

“She did not say that! At least, not the last part.”

“I may have been paraphrasing. The intent was clear.” _Thud thud thud._ “So anyway, taste is a pretty good sense. And I’ve been hearing some of that music the young people put on the radio – some of it isn’t half bad! What’s that one that goes ‘ _Baby, baby, baby, oh you’re my baby, oh baby baby nobody’s more a baby, oh–’_?”

“Didn’t you have hearing before?”

“Yeah, but you humans have these funny little head bones that vibrate.” Bill put a finger in his ear and twisted it. “It tickles!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, I guess.”

“But there’s more, way more! For instance, I’ve been thinking about getting laid.”

Dipper’s head pivoted slowly and he gave Bill a stern, utterly appalled look. “Oh God. Please don’t… don’t do that. Or talk about it. Or think about it.”

“I’ve seen a lot of it down through the years – you mammals sure do like to bump uglies! – but I could never see the attraction before.” _Thud thud thud._ “Oh, and the dances you guys do around all that – hilariously elaborate! Say, speaking of which… did you ever make it with Red?”

“None of your business!”

“A-HAHAHA! Just kidding, I know you didn’t. Pity she had to move, huh?”

“I don’t know… right now I’m pretty glad Wendy’s safe outside of your perv-zone.”

“Yeah? Why, you figure she doesn’t have a webcam?” Bill waggled his eyebrows and stuck his tongue between his teeth.

“Bill, I swear, if you don’t leave her alone…”

“Ooh, back off tough-guy! To be honest, that seems like a lot of work for little payoff. I’m looking for something a lot easier and closer in proximity.”

“Pfff. Good luck.”

“You think I can’t?”

“I think you’re a creepy weirdo and anyone who talks to you for more than five minutes is going to realize that.”

“Oh reaaaaaally?” Bill tapped his chin in a thoughtful attitude. “Y’know, that sounds kind of like a bet to me.”

“Bill. _No_.”

“Too late, kid. This just went from idle daydream to my number one priority!” Bill swung his legs off the bed and crossed the attic room with a few floor-shaking bounds. “9/11 was an inside job, but you’ll never guess who did it. Byeeee!”

Dipper gave a deep, self-pitying sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. Then he leaned down to bang his head off the desk. _Thud thud thud._

*~*~*

“Why am I signed up to Kindler?” Dipper demanded, shoving his phone in Bill’s face as the latter sat sprawled on the sofa in front of a marathon of _Ghost Harassers_.

“I just wanted you to have a sporting chance.”

“A sporting chance at what?”

“Come on, kid, I thought we were having a competition.”

“We’re not.”

Bill pointed a finger at him and made a clicking sound. “Not with that attitude, sport.” He snatched the phone and held it towards Dipper’s face. “Look, Pine Tree, it’s easy – here’s the menu of local ladies. Here’s some boring crap about their lives – DTF means ‘down to fuck’, by the way. Word to the wise.”

“Agh, stop! Stop, what are you doing?! Stop swiping right!” Dipper snatched back the phone in a graceless scramble.

“It’s a game of probability. You have to maximise the odds someone out there will actually like the sight of your weird, drooly face.”

“When did you even take this picture of me? Bill, was I _asleep_?”

“Well you sure weren’t staying still long enough when you were awake.”

“Did you…” Dipper scrolled down his phone screen. “Did you sign me up for _multiple_ dating apps?”

“Eh,” Bill oscillated his hand from side to side. “Bumpr is more of a hook-up app.”

“Isn’t it for men? Like, men seeking _men_?”

“So? Like I said, probability game. Maximise potential!”

“Woah!” Dipper yelped as he accidentally tapped on the icon. “Bill! I do not want to see pictures of random men’s penises.”

“Your browser history says different.”

“Stay out of my room! And… I clicked on that site by accident!”

“Three times? That’s one hell of a hand spasm – A-HAHAHA!” Bill gave him a lascivious wink. “I wasn’t sure if you were more of a twink or an otter, so I wrote ‘twotter’. They’ll get it.”

“You are the worst,” Dipper told him solemnly.

“Oh yeah, then how come I have three dates tonight?”

“I don’t know - because sociopaths have superficial charm?”

“I scheduled two of them at the same time. I hope that’s not a problem.” Bill tapped his own cheek thoughtfully. “Nah. The more the merrier, I figure. What do humans like as presents again? It’s animal viscera, right?”

Dipper backed out of the room pointing a finger that was shaking with righteous indignation. “The WORST.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s out of control,” Dipper told Grunkle Stan as he hopped into the kitchen, having severely stubbed his toe tripping over a pile of shed clothing in the hallway outside Bill’s room. “I mean, it’s not that he was ever _under control_ , exactly - but, you know, he’s _worse_ now. Somehow.”

“Who is?” Stan asked, shuffling his newspaper.

“Bill!” Dipper exclaimed as he shoved down the lever of the toaster with more force than necessary. “Now he has this obsession with becoming the Casanova of Gravity Falls. It’s distasteful and dumb.”

“What do you want me to do? He’s a little too old for the bird and the bees talk, don’t you think?”

“Why is he even still living here – can’t you make him move out?”

“Why would I? Bill’s great for business! Profits are up twenty percent this month. Tourists love that bit he does with predicting their horrible deaths.” Stan chuckled to himself. “A real people-pleaser… reminds me of a young me.”

“Grunkle Stan, he’s a terrible human being! He’s terrible at _being_ a human being!” Dipper poured himself a mug of coffee and took a long fortifying sip.

From beyond the living room there came a clattering on the stairs, then the squeak of the door between the living quarters and the gift shop opening. High heels on the wood floor, feminine giggling and the sound of Bill’s voice. Dipper couldn’t make out what was being said, but he could catch the low, insinuating cadence of it. The outer door slammed and a few seconds later Bill appeared in the kitchen doorway, swaying back and forth with his fingertips hooked over the door frame. He was wearing only a pair of silk pyjama bottoms that hung precariously low on his hips. Dipper glanced in horrified fascination at the definition of his iliac furrow and the line of hair that disappeared under the waistband, then snapped his head up to give Bill a resentful glare.

“Well, well! Gooood morning Pine Tree! Good morning Crescent!” Bill greeted them, making his way over to the whiteboard that was supposed to be used for grocery lists and memos, but which Bill had recently repurposed into a scoreboard. A wiggly line of marker bisected the board and at the top of the left column was drawn a triangle, while a pine tree symbol headed the column on the right. Almost a score of tally marks appeared in Bill’s column, while Dipper’s side remained defiantly blank. Bill uncapped the marker that dangled from a string and added another stroke.

“That’s really offensive, you know,” Dipper told him, once again breaking in his own resolution to take the high road and ignore the demon’s antics.

“A-HAHAHA! Does it upset you to start every day gazing into the white void of your own failure, kid?” Bill asked as he drummed his fingernails on the blank column.

“No, it _upsets_ _me_ that you still think of humans as pawns in your stupid game. You don’t have magic powers anymore, Bill, if you want to get respect from people you have to give it.”

“Yeah right, that’s what oils the wheels of power in this world – respect.” Bill poured himself a coffee and added three heaping spoonfuls of sugar, then he reached around Dipper where he stood at the kitchen counter and snatched a pop tart from mid-air as it ejected from the toaster.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

Bill twisted away from Dipper’s grabbing hand. “Gotta be faster than that, Kid.”

“Grunkle Stan, tell Bill to stop being a sleazy freeloader!”

 “Tell Pine Tree that snitches get stitches!”

“He’s right, Dipper.” Behind the newspaper, Stan narrowed his eyes. “In Colombia I learned that the hard way.”

Bill flashed Dipper a triumphant grin through his mouthful of stolen breakfast. “So anyway, Pine Tree, I have a proposal for you.”

“Whatever it is – no. A thousand times no.”

“Hear me out! How about you come out tonight with a couple of new pals of mine?”

“‘Pals’… yeah right! You don’t have friends, Bill. Sounds like a scam.”

“It’s not a scam. You know, except in the sense that the entire social contract is a scam. Everybody’s got an angle kid, don’t pretend that’s news. Anyway, it’s just dinner and drinks. You might even enjoy yourself.”

“Not interested.”

“Hey Dipper,” Stan cut in, glancing up at him, “when was the last time you even went outside? No offence, kid, but you’re getting that pasty-faced, wild-eyed Unabomber look. Maybe you could stand to cut loose for a little bit.”

“No way, I have a deadline! Last night my editor left me a voicemail that was just two minutes of her sobbing.”

Bill waggled his eyebrows.“I’ll make it worth your while. Fount of all knowledge here, at your disposal.”

Dipper sighed. “Yeah? So will you help me with fact-checking?”

“Suuure I will!”

“It has to be the truth, Bill. Not like last time – David Icke is still threatening legal action.”

“Wow, so that guy can give it out but he can’t take it, huh? Reptilians sure get mad when they’re cornered.”

“Biiiiillll.”

“Fine! Scout’s honor, kid – one hundred percent truth about the hidden secrets of the universe. Just don’t come crying to me if your readers’ brains explode and their eyes boil out of their skulls.”

Bill’s hand no longer glowed blue when he held it out, but Dipper still immediately regretted shaking it.

*~*~*

Dipper opened the door to Greasy’s Diner and quickly scanned the room. His eyes narrowed as they came to rest on a familiar figure dressed in a pale blue cambric shirt, dark wool pants, a matching waistcoat and bow tie. It was a look Mabel (who helped Bill assemble this wardrobe from Goodwill) had dubbed ‘Amish business-casual’.

Bill was seated in a booth, his arm stretched out over the back of the vinyl seat and a look of glittering intent in his eyes. Next to him was a man Dipper estimated to be in his late thirties, of a large, muscular build. He was wearing a lumberjack shirt over an oil-stained A-shirt, jeans, work boots and a trucker cap. He had a weather-beaten face and a habit of rubbing a hand over his stubbly chin self-consciously. Across the grease-streaked formica table from them was an Asian-American woman around Dipper’s age who was of a slender, androgynous build. She was wearing a puma tank t-shirt that Dipper recognised from the Mystery Shack gift store and her long hair was dyed a bright topaz blue, fading to white at the tips. She had a beauty-spot lip piercing and dramatic winged eyeliner that seemed to complement the studied look of nonchalance she wore. Dipper’s mind immediately pinned her as ‘a Wendy-type’ and he wondered if he would ever really be able to stamp out those last embers of his hopeless first crush.

The man and woman were glancing alternately at Bill and each other, confusion and discomfort evident in their expressions and body language. Dipper thought about just backing out of the diner before he got dragged into what looked like a hostage situation, but Bill glanced up and his sly smile became a wide grin.

“Hey there friendo! Get over here and join the party!”

Dipper glanced longingly at the door, then trudged towards the open seat.

“You’re just in time! So this is my roommate Pine Tree. Pine Tree this is…” Bill pointed his index finger at the man sitting beside him and made a clicking sound.

“Uh… Buddy.”

Bill turned his pointer finger on the woman. “And…”

“Kim.”

“Hi,” Dipper said sheepishly.

“Uuuh…” Kim said, “did he say your name is ‘Pine Tree’? Is that like a New Age, Oregonian thing?”

“It’s just a nickname. Only Bill calls me that – everyone else calls me Dipper.” Dipper rubbed the back of his own neck self-consciously and felt himself start to sweat. “Which is another nickname, I guess.” He gave a forced laugh and tried to change the subject. “So, uh, what are you guys doing in our sleepy little town?”

“This one,” Bill indicated Kim, “came in fresh this afternoon on a tour bus - we struck up a rapport and I said let’s go to dinner. This one,” he pointed to Buddy, “I uh ‘met’ – that’s what you cool kids say, met? – online. So here we are!” Bill linked his fingers together and rested his chin on them, leering at Dipper. “Three is the magic number, but I guess we have room for one more.”

“Look,” Buddy broke in gruffly, confusion and exasperation warring on his face, “just what is going on around here? Because in the messages I thought–”

Bill interrupted him with a hearty laughter and a pat on the knee. “I promised you a good time, didn’t I? So relaaaaax.” There was a hint of displeasure in Bill’s voice, but he soon covered it with good humour. “Hey, you’re acting as uptight as Pine Tree over there. You don’t want to end up with a sour puss like that, do you? Cautionary tale: one day the wind changed and his face got stuck that way.” Dipper’s suspicious scowl deepened at this and Bill added triumphantly: “See! It’s a tragic case. Who wants fried food?”

Dipper watched in horrified fascination as Bill proceeded to hold court with his two dates, talking a mile a minute in between bites of milkshake-dipped french fries and deftly navigating around their discomforts and suspicions. It was his confidence, Dipper realised, that made him so fascinating. His ego was so massive and so utterly bulletproof, it was almost as if he had no ego at all. Most humans spend their lives always labouring against fear and uncertainty, and Bill’s utter lack of either made him a magnetic figure.

 _Like a cult leader_ , Dipper thought, with a sudden pang of dread. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Bill was turning his attention to dating and seduction, because what he could do if he ever decided to broaden the focus of his charm offensive was a terrifying prospect. And he had seventy years to do it in – _God help us all_.

“So how come you’re working in a backwater tourist-trap anyway?” Kim asked Bill.

“Oh, I have ambitions and plans. Lots of plans. I’m just on… you might say a sabbatical.”

Buddy’s face screwed up in confusion. “A what now?”

Kim twirled a hand. “It’s like a holiday for professor-types.”

“You’re a professor?”

“Not exactly. But I am a _world expert_.”

“Expert in what?”

“Oh, let’s say metaphysics.”

“Meta–?” Buddy frowned again. Kim shrugged.

“It’s the study of the nature of being,” Dipper answered. “So, the big questions:  knowing, life and death, time and space - stuff like that. At least, that’s what a classical or medieval scholar would say, there’s actually an interesting debate in modern philosophy–”

“Well, well, well,” Bill linked his fingers behind his head, sliding down in his seat with a smug grin. “Welcome to the conversation, nerd.”

Dipper flushed. “They asked.”

Kim turned her head to look at him. “So what’s your deal? You a philosophy grad student or something?”

“A-HAHAHA! Not likely. Pine Tree dropped out of college. Seems like he had a little problem with authority.”

“Well if they’re going to call it ‘history’ and not ‘make-believe’ they should get their facts straight.” Dipper crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I mean, one minute the dean is all ‘bring any academic concerns to me’, the next he’s all ‘oh but the moon-landings _definitely_ happened, young man’ and ‘you seem agitated, let me call a counsellor’. I mean, just because I actually _do_ research instead of believing what I’m told they act like _I’m_ the crazy, deluded one? Who needs an ‘education’ like that!”

Bill chuckled and shook his head. “Classic Pines family! How many US states are you still allowed in?”

Dipper narrowed his eyes at the demon. “Anyway…” he continued, trying to lower his voice and gather some composure, “now I’m a journalist. For work, I mean.”

Kim raised a sceptical eyebrow at this. “Yeah, so what do you write about?”

“Oh, you know, the usual: anomalous phenomena, cryptozoology, conspiracies, parapolitics...”

Kim frowned. “So… like on a blog somewhere?”

“Do you ever read _Paranoiac_? _Sasq-Watch_?” Dipper lifted his arms in frustration at the blank looks he received. “ _Fordian Times_? That one was named after my great uncle. Though that’s not why I got the job – they needed a cryptid correspondent to cover the Pacific North-West and I published this book a while back―”

Buddy and Kim were now both doing that concerned staring thing strangers often did around Dipper when he got too animated. That was hard to take – apparently he was a worse at passing for ‘normal’ than Bill Cipher, actual flesh-imprisoned demon from the Realm of Nightmares. Bill was still grinning in a manner that suggested he very much enjoyed watching Dipper dig himself deeper into a conversational hole. Dipper felt his neck and cheeks becoming flushed – because damned if he was going to be some bumbling wingman for Bill’s personal amusement. “You know what,” he got to his feet and slid out of the booth, “I don’t have time for this. It was good to meet you both. Have a nice… whatever this is.”

Dipper only got two steps away from the table before he felt a hand close around his elbow and tug him back. “Where do you think you’re going, dummy?”

Dipper pivoted on his heel, snarling “screw you, Bill! I only came down here because you promised you were going to come home in time to help me with that article. But then I just realised how colossally _stupid_ that idea is – you’ve never helped anyone in all of recorded history!”

“Simmer down Pine Tree, you’re making a scene.”

“Is there a problem here?” Lazy Susan appeared, holding aloft a plate of pecan pie.

“Hey look!” Bill gestured, “I ordered you some pie. Now pull the stick out of your ass, sit back down and eat it.”

Dipper crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to eat it!”

“Don’t be a baby – it’s your favourite. Look, the nice lady made the whip cream into a smiley face.”

“I sure did young man!” Lazy Susan winked and set the plate onto their table with a clatter.

“Thanks, toots.” Bill wagged a finger at Dipper “Don’t be rude to waitresses, Pine Tree – that’s life lesson number one.”

“Don’t you lecture me – you’ve only been human for like five minutes!”

“Listen,” Bill hissed, lowering his voice to an angry whisper, “I’m trying to do you a favour here kid, so why don’t you knock off the lone wolf paranormal investigator shtick for a few hours and try having some fun? Here’s the itinerary: finish dinner, go have a couple of drinks, and then there’ll be all the time in the world for your boring homework assignment. Deal?”

Dipper glanced between Bill and the slice of pie, which, admittedly, did look very inviting. He blew up his hair with an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

*~*~*

“So,” said Bill, sliding into a seat next to Dipper at one of the Tavern’s sticky, beer bottle-littered tables. “Which one do you want?”

“What?”

“That one or that one?” Bill pointed from Buddy to Kim where they were deep in discussion while waiting to be served up at the bar. “I’m not picky.”

“Are you offering me one of your dates?”

“Sure, why not? I’m not greedy. Gotta say, Blue thinks you’re kind of an oddball, but I don’t think it’s a strike out. Good Ole Boy is the better bet, judging by the way he’s been staring at your ass in those jeans.”

Dipper flushed. “I’m not… I don’t like men, Bill.”

“A-HAHAHA!” Bill leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah right. Shooting Star told me about the guy in your dorm who hit on you and you spent the next week hiding over at her place. Not classy, Pine Tree.”

Dipper was aware that Mabel and Bill video-chatted on occasion, but he didn’t realise his twin was feeding the demon blackmail material. “I’m not homophobic! I just… I didn’t know how to let him down politely. It was easier to just… you know, not be around.”

“Star thinks you freaked out because you _wanted_ to date him.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She said – _quote_ –” here Bill mimicked Mabel’s voice: “‘Dipper has deep-seated issues with masculinity’.”

“I do not!”

“There are fourteen billion genders in my home dimension, so I don’t pretend to get the finer points of this idiotic binary you humans have going on, but you _definitely_ have issues, kid.”

Dipper frowned and then turned his head. “And Mabel really said that?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, she’s been emailing me these articles she has to read for her Gender Studies class, but I thought she was just really into it! Last week is was this thing about how viewing the male nude ‘involves an oscillation between a position of identification and one of desire’. What does that mean, Bill?”

“Means you want to _be_ the naked dude _and_ you want to bone the naked dude. Duh.”

“No! Not that – I mean, does my sister think I’m into guys?”

“Yeah. And you’re all sweaty and neurotic about it, like you are about everything, Captain Overthink.” 

“Because I’ve dated women… like, more than one! Three, in fact!” Dipper opened his arms and gestured emphatically. “We did stuff!”

“It may surprise you to learn that you can get hot for both men and women without the universe crumpling in on itself in a quantum paradox. Personally, I barely notice the difference. It’s all just heat and friction.” He raised his eyes and touched his tongue to his top lip. “Delicious friction.”

Dipper set his mouth into a firm line and looked up as Kim approached their table. She set down a shot glass in front of Bill and gave him a sharp poke in the upper arm. “Drink up, loser. Then we’re hitting the dance floor.”

“Hear that, Pine Tree? It’s about to get a little crazy in here!” Bill tipped back the shot and then allowed himself to be dragged towards where other people were dancing in the cramped, dimly-lit space.

Dipper watched the crowd for a while and then wandered over to the jukebox and flipped listlessly through the selections. At some point since Dipper went off to college, the tavern had been taken over by a hipster clientele and he did not recognise most of the obscure band names or songs.

He froze when he felt a hot gust of breath over the back of his neck and a pair of tanned, rough hands bracketed his on the selection bar, punching keys that set the record carousel whirring. Dipper turned and found himself looking up at Buddy. The other man’s eyes were narrowed and intent, even as his body language suggested awkwardness. “Hey cowboy,” he said. “You dancing?”

“I… uh…” Dipper looked over Buddy’s shoulder to try and find Bill in the crowd. “This isn’t really my kind of music. I like, uh… europop. I know that’s not cool, but it’s fun and catchy! And I mean, is it really so terrible for something to be popular?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

“All the time.”

Buddy smiled; it was warm and lop-sided. He reached out and took one of Dipper’s hands, threading their fingers together, then another squeezed his waist and slid around to the small of his back. Before Dipper could really process what was happening, they were dancing, swaying slowly to a mournful steel-guitar ballad about whiskey and betrayal. He could not tell if it was an old song, or a modern pastiche of one, but maybe that didn’t matter.

Dipper was very aware of every place where their bodies touched and he was torn between luxuriating in the warmth and abundance of sensation and shrinking away from the unfamiliar intimacy. He tried to claw back some respectability through small talk: “so, uh… what’s your deal?”

“Nothin’ much to say. Came up from Texas to work in lumber.”

“Oh,” Dipper said, lamely. “Do you like that? Is it a good job?”

“Hard work, but it’s not so bad. The climate up here is something else though – gets pretty cold and lonely sometimes, you know?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I’m looking for someone to warm me up. Get reaaal hot, you know what I’m saying?” Dipper felt fingers slipping through his belt loops, tugging him close against a masculine frame that was all hipbone and hard, uncompromising angles. He felt a long, prickly drag of stubble against his neck and then lips grazing the edge shell of his ear. “That somethin’ you’d be interested in?”

“What about Bill?” Dipper stuttered, pulling his head back. “I mean, you’re here with him, right?”

“He’s a little loud and flashy – you’re more my type.”

“Uhhh,” Dipper said, aware that were he hooked up to Great Uncle Ford’s mind-reading machine at this precise moment it would probably short-circuit under the deluge of distracted thoughts: ‘WHAT ‘TYPE’ AM I, EXACTLY?’ ‘IS TWOTTER A REAL THING?’ ‘WHERE IS BILL, GODDAMN IT?’ ‘I MISS TYRONE.’ ‘BUDDY SMELLS LIKE MUSK AND PINE.’ ‘DOES MABEL THINK I’M LYING TO HER?’ ‘IS HE GOING TO KISS ME?’ ‘DO I _WANT_ HIM TO KISS ME?’ ‘MY EDITOR IS GOING TO KILL ME.’ ‘MAYBE MORE BEER WILL HELP.’ ‘MUST REMEMBER TO LOOK UP KINSEY SCALE.’

He brought a hand up to Buddy’s chest and pushed, taking a step back. “I’m uh, I’m sorry. I’m in a really confusing place right now and I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Buddy regarded him evenly; there was disappointment in his gaze but no surprise or offence. “Yeah. Bill said you’d probably freak out like this.”

“Wait, _Bill_ put you up to this?”

“Not exactly. You might say he gave me his blessing.”

“That asshole!”

“Aw, now don’t be sore. I figure he was trying to be a good friend to you.”

“No he wasn’t. You don’t know him but he’s not a good person. He’s not really a person at all – he’s an ancient evil in human form!”

Buddy stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged. “Seems like a fun guy to me.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that depends on your idea of ‘fun’.” Dipper screwed his hat onto his head more securely in a gesture of resolution. “Tell that equilateral egomaniac that I’m going home.”

“Uh, ok?”

“Remember the ‘equilateral egomaniac’ part, because that’s the insult. He’ll understand what it means!”

“I’ll sure do my best to remember that.” He walked backwards a few steps, giving Dipper a last lingering glance before he turned and made his way over to the other pair. Bill reached back to get a hand behind Buddy’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss, as if it was that simple. Maybe it was. Kim looked confused for a moment and then just tossed her head back and laughed. Bill turned to whisper something to each of his dates in turn; there was a moment of hesitation, lips were bitten, and then the three of them were walking out together, Bill’s arm over Kim’s shoulders and his arm around Buddy’s waist.

Dipper stared stupidly at the door for a long time before realizing he was three drinks in and had missed his ride home. “Dammit, Bill!”

*~*~*

Dipper paused in his furious typing as he heard the sound of the attic’s stained glass window swinging open. A set of fingers appeared on the guttering and then Bill was pulling himself up onto the flat roof next to Dipper. He was back in his leisurewear combination of Mabel’s socks and a pair of pyjama bottoms, topped with a smoking jacket, the cord wrapped twice around his waist.

“What do you want?”

“Word on the street is you’re looking for an all-knowing fact-checker.” He reached behind Dipper and rummaged around in the cooler, helping himself to a can of Pitt.

“Don’t you have ‘guests’ to entertain?”

“They headed out.” Bill paused to suck down noisy mouthfuls of soda, but at least managed to confine the beverage to his mouth. “Good Ole Boy had to head back to the mountains. Blue caught a ride into town.”

“Do you really have difficulty remembering people’s names, or do you do it on purpose just to show how insignificant you think they are?”

“Don’t know why you humans get so hung up on signifiers – and the ones you choose for each other are so arbitrary! Mine make _a lot_ more sense.”

“I don’t know how you get away with being so rude to people.”

“A-HAHAHA! Hey, I’m refreshingly honest!”

“Yeah, right. That’ll be the day.”

“Ok, you wanna know the secret, Pine Tree? No charge, because I like you. Most humans are lazy and lacking in creativity. They want clear choices, y’know? Pitt or Popsi. Party or go home. Top or bottom. Threesome or tag team–”

“Alright, stop already. I hear enough through the floor, Bill.”

“You’re not all the same, though, I will give you that! It’s true that some people don’t like my direct style. I gotta come up sideways like with a nervous horse.” Bill raised his hand and wiggled his fingers mysteriously. “At least, that’s my working theory. Since I can’t jump into the mindscape and just pry the lids off people’s desires anymore all I have to go on is their weird facial contortions and sometimes actually listening to them _talk_. It’s torture, kid.”

“You’re a real martyr, Bill.”

“This is true.” Bill let out a resounding burp and then laughed, crumpling up the empty soda can and tossing it to lie with the others. “I mean, you know how that stupid angel’s ‘do not harm’ clause means I can’t even hurt myself?”

“Ha ha! Yeah.” Dipper recalled some fond memories of Bill trying to throw himself off a gorge and repeatedly failing, shrieking run-together swear words as he rolled around helplessly on the ground. _Good times_.

“Applies to totally non-lethal recreational pain, too. I can’t even ask for a hard spanking, I have to suggest it in this really round-about way. If that angel’s so smart and this having a body thing is supposed to be a punishment, why block off access to some well-deserved chastisement?”

“I don’t know, Bill. Maybe somehow it knew that you’d be a weird pervert who gets off on it?”

Bill raised his hands over his head and linked them together, twisting his body until his neck and spine gave a grotesque series of pops. “Well, I’m feeling mellow and limber. Let’s do this. What secrets of the known and unknown universe do you require?”

“Tell me more about angels. You said they’re made out of words – how is that even possible?”

“A word is an expression of a concept or intention, right? It’s a vehicle for an impulse. Magic bullets! Pow, pow!” Bill made a gun out of his clasped hands and mimed popping off a series of shots. “You’ve heard of the golem, right?”

“Sure, it’s a Jewish legend about a clay vessel animated by a scroll bearing a _shem_ – letters forming any of the seven names of God.”

“Angels are the same kind of thing. They don’t really think. They’re more like a computer program – they have protocols.”

“Then who programmed them?”

“A-HAHAHA! Now _that_ is the kind of information you don’t get for free. Premium membership only!”

Dipper sighed, pushing his cap back on his head and blowing up his bangs with a puff of breath. “So what do you want now?”

Bill grinned at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You’re a smart guy, Pine Tree. You’ll work it out.” With that he gave a cocky salute and scrambled out of sight over the shingles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I needed ooone more chapter to get everything in place for the smut to commence! Stay tuned, filth fans.


End file.
